


The Madison Affair

by UniversalTalent



Series: You Are the Revolution [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: AU, Awkward, Canon Era, Chess, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is a founding father, Reader is a well known political voice at the constitutional convention, Shameless, Who is also a woman pretending to be a man, mild violence, possibly trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalTalent/pseuds/UniversalTalent
Summary: For some reason you saw James Madison and it was at this exact moment that you started to wonder just who you thought you were; impersonating a delegate to the constitutional convention, a lieutenant of the continental army, one of the best lawyers in the state of Massachusetts.  You were a girl, just a girl, that somehow made herself appear to be the man who did those things.And then you remembered that you were the man.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2am  
> Also, I made Jefferson really dickish and kind of insane, sorry history  
> Also James Madison might be gay, again, sorry  
> Also this whole thing has terrible grammar, sorry Alexander Hamilton  
> Also, this is probably not what you're expecting, it's a lot more emotional than physical  
> It doesn't exactly make sense as a whole so I think I'm going to make it a series  
> Anyway, feel free to yell at me in the comments if I completely messed something up  
> Y/L/N = Your last name  
> Y/F/N = Your first name (masculine)

You adjusted the shirt you were wearing. It was, like everyone else’s in the room, ridiculous. It had 11 buttons up the front and ruffles that went down to your mid chest. It was too hot for your brown overcoat which had come off 5 minutes after stepping into the room, just like everyone else’s. You wore a caramel colored vest that went with your dark coat, you had intentionally chosen your tightest vest you could find, and it hugged your torso without giving, uh, everything away. You wore breeches that hugged your legs without having to be stuffed, you spent more time trying to make your hips and legs as small as you could anyways. The good thing about the ruffles on your shirt was that they accentuated your chest and made it look bigger and more manly. You still had to stuff your shirt in its shoulders, even though you’d worked long and hard to make them more muscular (They were muscular, not to brag) but they never lost that feminine roundness.

You were chosen for the constitutional convention. It was the most exciting and the most miserable thing you’d ever been a part of. When you didn’t feel like you were suffocating in your binding tape you felt like you were suffocating in excitement. And, so far, no one knew. You had a reputation. You had a reputation for being loud and argumentative. Eloquent and intentional. You were a speaker, an orator through and through. You were 29 years old, one of the youngest delegates, an injured veteran of the revolution. And no one suspected a thing.

***

“And that is why we should prefer either a combination or the New Jersey plan.”  
There was no applause, there was never applause, applause wasn’t a thing that existed in this line of work.

You walked back to your seat in silence, listening to your shoes click on the floor and your opponents drafting rebuttals in their heads as the presider gave them the time to do so.

Several people watched you with electric stares. Eight people exactly always watched you with electric stares actually. Gwinnett, Morris, both Pinckneys, Johnson, Martin, Baldwin, Jennifer and Guilman, to be exact. Everyone shifted from time to time and watched you with burning stares. With hopeful stares. With hateful stares. With some concerning lustful stares. And two always had passive stares. The convention floor was organized by political affiliation and the two that were passive, neutral, always sat directly across from you. James Madison and Thomas Jefferson had exact opposite ideas based on the same values and always stared passively. To your right were Alexander Hamilton whose stare burned and John Adams whose stare froze. To your left Were Sherman and Jay who both stared half approvingly. And forever center stage was George Washington and sitting to his right, Benjamin Franklin who seemed to see you as little more than a child.

You sit down in your chair next to Benjamin Harrison (who admittedly made you blush every once in awhile, an achievement really) and picked up your quill as you watched Washington approach the podium you had just spoke from.

“I would ask for a counter argument, but a recess was promised nearly an hour ago and it would be cruel to refuse that right.”

You rolled your eyes and replaced your quill. Breaks usually lasted 45 minutes to an hour. That’s 45 minutes to an hour more planning than you had for your speech. 45 minutes to an hour of your opponents, probably Madison and Jefferson, writing (mostly Madison writing and Jefferson ranting) a rebuttal to a speech you had improvised.

You stood up a few seconds after everyone else did to give the aisles time to clear out and headed to the washroom muttering to yourself. You were never that social, you tried not to be; it was best to keep everyone at arm's length. Sometimes it was inevitable, like when Hamilton had asked you over for dinner (it was terrifying, and delicious, Eliza’s an excellent cook) or when you and Harrison cooperated on things. You knew how this would go, you would be in the washroom for as long as you reasonably could to adjust your tape and then you would remain outside clearing your head, until you began to miss your parchment and quill.

You practically jogged to the small, musty, washroom and closed the door while locking it simultaneously. You leaned over the stale wash tub, let out a gasping sigh and allowed sweat to pool in the crevices of your face. You watched your reflection in the water for a time. You had bags under your eyes and your hair was dark with sweat. You took one of the towels from the rack next to the tub and splashed your face with the probably day old water, careful not to open your mouth, and let it run down your chest and under your binder. You shivered at the sensation. You toweled your face off and let your hair down, it fell just past your shoulders. You began to unbutton your shirt when you heard the door click as someone turned the handle and pushed it open.

“Ah, Mr. Y/L/N, my most sincere apologies.” Thomas Jefferson stood a little past the door frame, an expression of surprise on his face.  
_Why didn’t he knock?_  
 _Wait, the door was locked._  
You turned having swiftly buttoned your shirt. You did your most convincing half smile as you moved away from the sink towards the door.  
“No apologies necessary, Mr. Jefferson, I was just finishing anyways.”  
You adjusted your cuffs on the way out to avoid eye contact with Jefferson. As you stepped from the door frame his hand clasped your shoulder.  
_He’s 6’2”_  
 _The door was locked, he knew I was in there._  
 _It wasn’t an accident, he wanted to find me in the washroom._  
 _Shoulder padding_  
 _Oh god, the shoulder padding_

“Mr. YLN, I was on my way to find you actually and stopped to freshen up in the washroom.”

You turned to face him. He apparently didn’t notice the padding as his hand slipped off easily. You were 5’5” and had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. He had a kind of lopsided smile on his face, the kind of smile a man used to flirt with women or make friends of men.

“Of course Mr. Jefferson, how rude of me, what can I do for you?”

You didn’t attempt to mirror his smile, instead opting to simply look friendly.

“James and I were wondering if you might like to meet for tea this afternoon, we have some plans for the legislature I think might satisfy all parties.”  
_It would be rude to refuse_  
 _Plans? Not ideas or concepts_  
 _The door was locked_  
“Of course, I’d love to.” I widened my smile.  
“I was thinking around 4:00, James and I are staying in my city house on fairmont street downtown.”  
_His city house?_  
“I would be delighted, I will be there.”  
_The door was locked_

***  
You went outside and stood in the sunlight next to the building. Absorbing as much as you could before you returned to the sepulcher like room your life had become.

“Mr. Y/L/N”  
You turned your head slightly and then all the way as you saw Alexander Hamilton approach you.  
“Mr. Hamilton, what can I do for you?”  
You made a polite point of starting nearly every conversation with that question and a smile. It made people less apt to talk.  
“I heard you’re having tea with Madison and Jefferson this afternoon.”  
He didn’t wear a smile but his face wasn’t exactly unfriendly.  
“Word travels quickly apparently.”  
“Yes indeed.”  
_He has the hair of a Caribbean god._  
You shook the thought from your head.  
You stood with your arms crossed over your chest looking out at the street. Hamilton mirrored you.  
“Y/F/N, would you consider us friends, or at least allies.”  
He looked your profile up and down as though he were sizing you up. You expression faltered minutely but not enough for him to read.  
“Well, I assume so.”  
You looked over at him.  
“Then I can give you a piece of advice.”  
He uncrossed his arms and you mirrored.  
“Be careful with Madison and Jefferson, they’re dangerous.”  
You were a little irked, did he not think you could handle them? He continued before you could comment, already reading your face.  
“I know, you can handle them, but be cautious. You’re a young man who has many years of politics ahead of him and a brilliant young man at that. Don’t slip up here or you might end up regretting it for a very long time.”

***

You’re carriage stopped in front of the nicest house on fairmount street at 3:55pm. The evening had cooled and you wore a different shirt with different tape underneath and a yellow patterned vest with the brown overcoat you hadn’t gotten to wear the majority of the day. You wore shoes that were wedged on the inside, making you 5’6” instead of 5’5” so you’d at least be two inches taller than Madison.

The house itself was beautiful, a neat two story brown brick building with a lovely garden and white accents. The door wood was pine and the brass knocker was shaped like a lion. It echoed richly through the house.

That was how you met Sally Hemings (who also made you blush slightly). You’d heard the rumors about her and Jefferson and needless to say you saw the appeal. You stood there, nearly dumbstruck for a moment or two before Jefferson appeared, smiling, at the door.

“Ah, Mr. Y/L/N how wonderful, you’re just on time.”  
You stepped in and Sally took your coat.  
“Thank you Ms. Hemings.”  
She didn’t respond.

You moved from the entryway to what appeared to be a small dining room where Madison was seated at a round table. Jefferson was, presumably, commanding his slaves in the preparation of tea. You sat down across from Madison who stared at you blankly.

Madison was quite possibly the most brilliant political mind at the convention but his silence was as notorious as his intellectual prowess. And you certainly weren’t going to start a conversation.  
_What was the point of this?_  
 _Were you a big enough political enemy that they had to personally try to take you down?_  
 _Were you worth asking over for tea to discuss plans for the legislation?_  
 _Well, apparently. . . You might have to do something about that._

You didn’t have to worry for long, about thirty seconds after you sat down Jefferson burst through the kitchen door in a flamboyant swirl of his purple coat (that he never seemed to take off) followed by an entourage of slaves carrying tea and the amenities to go with it.

About two minutes after getting everything tea-oriented set up and some polite conversation (in which Madison spoke twice) you started to become concerned.

“So, Mr. Jefferson, would you mind introducing me to this legislative plan. I must say, I’m quite eager to hear what you have come up with.”

“Ah, well, you see Mr. Y/L/N, there is no plan per say.”

***

You started to feel the wet heat in your crotch about 7 minutes in. You did your best to focus intelligently on what Jefferson said, Madison talked 5 times in the whole conversation. Jefferson's whole idea behind this meeting was to give you a polite warning. _I won't bleed through.  I won't bleed through.  I won't bleed through._

“So as you can see, it might be rather unfortunate should you continue to urge the  
passage of the New Jersey plan.”

You spoke only 7 times and never in abject defense of yourself. Jefferson was basically saying you needed to start urging the passage of the Virginia plan or there would be consequences. It was almost flattering really, you had no idea you were actually politically powerful enough to urge something like the Virginia plan and maybe secure its passage. Of course, any one who takes a hard stance on an issue and then flips to the totally opposite side is going to help that opposite side. And, of course, you would never urge the Virginia plan. A bicameral legislature would be best for the nation.

The tea you had was now cold, having taken only 5 sips before feeling too sick to continue. Thank god you wore black breeches.

“Mr. Jefferson, would you be so kind to allow me the use of your restroom?”  
“Of course, it’s down the hall to your left.”

You tried not to walk too quickly. You learned long ago that medical gauze was the best bet for your period while wearing men's undergarments. Fortunately, you had brought gauze, unfortunately it was in your coat pocket. Fortunately, because you were going left you would go by the entryway where your coat was.  
You stopped by the rack and searched your first coat pocket, becoming frantic when at first you couldn’t find the roll you had brought, but finding it in your third pocket. You turned to see Ms. Hemings, who had been watching.

You simply smiled and proceeded to ignore her and walked calmly to the bathroom.

***

You were washing your hands in the tub of fresh water when deja vu struck you in the form of a door handle clicking. You turned, almost too swiftly, your hands still wet.  
The door was locked

“Uh, Mr. Jefferson what can I do for you?”

He stood stoically in the doorway for a long moment. Then he began to move towards the tub. You controlled your expression carefully. He got close, far to close. Your hands gripped the tub from behind and your body bent backward as far as you could bend it without getting your hair wet. Jefferson towered over you, also gripping the the tub, inches from your face. You could smell the French tea on his breath. There were places your bodies touched as he moved to whisper in your ear.

“How long do you think you can hide?”  
“Jefferson.”  
He backed away as he saw Madison standing in the doorway  
Madison shook his head and Jefferson frowned.

“Well, my most sincere apologies Mr. Y/L/N. That’s twice now I’ve accidentally intruded on your privy.”

_Accident my ass_

“If you will allow me to excuse myself, I must retreat to my study, I do have a plan to write.”

And with that he left.

It was a few surreal moments before you turned to grab a towel of the rack to dry your hands. Madison was so quiet you had forgotten about him.

“You must forgive him. He is very impulsive.”  
You rolled your eyes so Madison wouldn’t see.

“He’s just concerned, you’re a brilliant orator and it’s placing his plan in risk.”  
You paused for a moment before replying.

“Wasn’t it your plan?”  
Madison chuckled as he moved from the doorway into the bathroom to stand next to you, though you still faced towards the tub. Your eyebrows furrowed, what a deep voice for such a quiet man.

“I have to admit, you’re very impressive, and Thomas has been watching you. You’re very,” He paused and his eyes glanced you over “intimidating to him.”

There were a few awkward breathes that held the potential for words before he spoke again.  
“I know that we know of each other, but I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced.” With that, he stuck out his hand.

You don’t know why but a genuine smile broke across your face as you turned take his hand.  
“James Madison.”  
“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  
“Pleased to make your genuine acquaintance.” He accentuated the word genuine  
“Likewise.”  
There was a slightly less uncomfortable silence as you both moved out of the washroom and toward the entryway.

You took your coat off the rack and saw your carriage waiting outside. You had always felt a carriage as somewhat wasteful, you would rather have just ridden your horse solo, but that was deemed unbecoming of a meeting with Thomas Jefferson.

“Where are you staying?” Madison stood with his hands behind his back. There was a political motivation in ‘seeing your enemy to the door’.  
“Freedsburrow, a few blocks from here.”

Madison’s face contorted slightly  
“My most sincere apologies.”  
You genuinely laughed as you put your coat on.  
It was then that you noticed Sally Hemings watching from the hall.

“I would extend an invitation for you to stay here but. . .” He trailed and gestured in the direction of where Jefferson had gone.

“It’s a wicked game we play.”

“Indeed it is.”  
***  
A week passed uneventfully following the meeting. You had trouble sleeping and stayed up late writing, nothing unusual. Other than Madison beginning to invade your thoughts more than he had right to.

You avoided the washroom during recesses, which lead to you being more sociable. You actually began to talk to Madison. Seemingly every recess Jefferson left the room before you would have time to follow. This was extremely concerning. You thought for a while that he was leaving Madison as a stand in chess piece, a knight to distract the pawn from the queen, until you realized that Madison had no idea what Jefferson was doing either. You talked to Hamilton more as well. You never told him about the meeting and he didn’t ask, you both figured that if there were any results you’d see them loud and clear.

You continued to advocate for a bicameral legislature, though you advocated for the New Jersey plan alone less, and nothing came of it except new stares from the two who used to be passive. Madison's became appreciative, not as though he agreed but as though he recognized the value in the argument, and Jefferson's became hot.

“Because these United States ought to embrace the concept of states rights and sectionalism to at least a minimalistic degree, a bicameral legislature is absolutely necessary.”

Washington motioned for questions and there were none. It was your final speech on the legislature, the vote would happen after a recess. Washington motioned for a speech in opposition. Jefferson indicated he would speak. You sat down next to Harrison.

“Gentlemen, as much I adore the concept of states right, and you all know I do, the idea that the New Jersey plan somehow embraces the republican concept of states rights is false.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair.

“And the fact that a person who is not the foremost proponent of our predetermined republican values is using them to promote a plan that would limit the population of our nation as a whole ought to leave a fowl taste in the mouth.”

Madison glanced across the hall, met your eyes and looked back down.  
_He warned you, and you didn’t stop._  
Hamilton gave the speech preceding yours, advocating solely for the New Jersey plan. This was either going to be a speech aimed at one of you or both of you.

“The New Jersey plan only promotes divisiveness and doesn’t allow the true expression of popular will. After all, should the representation not be in proportion to population then the population doesn’t really have a true voice in government.”

Well yeah but all population must be equal valued in order for a government ‘of the people’ to function ‘of the people’ instead of functioning as government that suppresses the minority. You and Hamilton had talked about this.

“These people advocating for a combined legislature only want to further the buffer between the people and the government in the name of government protectionism. They want to enforce the sectionalism that already divides our young country and they hold anti republican values and beliefs.”

He turned his head to look at you as he said the last portion.  
_Shit._

****  
Throughout the speech, some like Ben Franklin looked at you with pity. Some sided with Jefferson and saw you through a cracked lens. All of the people in the room were highly intelligent and all knew what Jefferson was doing. Many stared at Jefferson with indignation, Hamilton among them. Only one communicated an apology. The silent genius across the room sent his regards through slightly watery eyes that you refused to meet.

When the speech was over Washington called for a recess.  
You walked silently out of the hall. You broke into a dead sprint as soon as no one would see you. You raced to the washroom, the place that used to be yours, and locked the door. You leaned over the tub. There were no tears, you’d coached yourself too well in the business of emotion, just gasping and a racing mind.  
_My political career is over_  
 _My political career is my life_  
 _Oh god, my life is over._  
 _Shhhh. . .. It’s not that bad, just because the crowd Jefferson panders to is sold on your character doesn’t mean that everyone else is_  
 _HAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAA_  
 _Fuck_

This time you didn’t hear the door handle click, twice this time, or the swift steps in time to do anything other than turn. This time he backhanded you before you could do anything.  
“Insolent child.” It was a growl, low enough that anyone outside wouldn’t hear.  
He grabbed your wrists.  
_He can’t do anything permanent_  
And you didn’t fight. Why didn’t you fight?  
_I don’t want to fight, I’m tired of fighting._  
He turned you around and grabbed your hair. You had made the mistake of tying it. He then dunked your head into the water.

Your thoughts didn’t ever reach a moment of clarity. They just floated with you in the water, you would reach to grab one from time to time and it would swim away. You saw your family. Your family that had died when you were 8. You saw the orphanage you ran from a year later. You saw the job you took as a printer and the money you saved for King’s College. You saw the war and the bullet wound that should have killed you in your ribs. You saw the impressed face of Alexander Hamilton as your commander, as your mentor, as your peer, and as what might have been your only friend. For some reason you saw James Madison and it was at this exact moment that you started to wonder just who you thought you were; impersonating a delegate to the constitutional convention, a lieutenant of the continental army, one of the best lawyers in the state of Massachusetts. You were a girl, just a girl, that somehow made herself appear to be a man.

At this point your body had started thrashing, trying to throw the much bigger man with more leverage off of your head. And then you saw Hamilton again. Wait, why was Hamilton here? And then you realized you were on the floor. And that’s when everything coalesced. Hamilton kneed Jefferson in the groin and punched him in the nose.

Jefferson was not a believer in heavy exercise. Hamilton was. Even though Jefferson was bigger Hamilton was well trained and physically prepared.

“Y/F/N?”  
“Y/F/N, how many fingers am I holding up?”  
You tried to answer but once you opened your mouth you started coughing. The water came out of your lungs like the memories.  
“Four.” You said finally  
Hamilton sighed “It could be worse I guess.”  
The room was spinning. Had this room always spinned? You don’t remember it spinning.  
Hamilton kneeled down in front of you with a towel in one hand and took the tie out of your hair with the other. He was talking about something but you couldn’t hear him.  
“-But we need to report Jefferson.”  
Your eyes shot wide open  
“No! We can’t, not until after the vote.”

***  
50 minutes later you and Hamilton left the washroom, you had a black eye and a cut above your left eyebrow. Hamilton had a cut on his lip.

56 minutes later congress was back together. Jefferson had a bandage over his nose. Madison kept trying to catch your eye but you wouldn’t let him and Hamilton glared at them both. Harrison kept glancing at you, expecting an explanation that you never gave.

2 hours later, the votes had been counted and the new government would have a bicameral legislature. Congress adjourned. Hamilton wanted to accompany you for the night but you wouldn’t let him. Harrison invited you out to celebrate but you declined. In essence, your political reputation stood, but you had made a powerful enemy with a lot of influence.

3 hours later you were back at your hotel, lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling.  
4 hours later you were writing and writing and 4 hours turned to five and five turned to six and then there was a knock at the door.

At 2:06 am you opened the door to James Madison. It was another two seconds before you realized you were still wearing your breeches and binding from the afternoon. Only your breeches and binding. You looked down at yourself in horror, your face bright red.

“My -er- most -uh- sincere apo-apologies Mr. Madison,” You then chuckled “I was not expecting company.”

You lifted your head and saw his face. He wore a serious expression and looked almost as disheveled as you. He had one sock on and mix matched shoes. Half his shirt was tucked in and the other half wasn’t. His vest buttons were in the wrong holes and there was a yellow stain on his left shoulder.  
_He would look better naked_  
 _Shut-up_  
Madison hadn’t responded.  
“James, are you alright?”  
It was then that you noticed he had been staring at you. He shook his head.  
“Yes I’m fine, I heard about what happened with Jefferson today and wanted to make sure you were alright. Also Jefferson and I, er. . .”  
Jefferson? Madison always called him Thomas.  
You stepped to the side, holding your door open.  
“Come in and I’ll get cleaned up and make us some tea.”  
The hotel had rooms with kitchenettes, making it more livable.

The 36 year old stepped in and stood awkwardly near the door as you went to your drawers and picked out clothes. You picked out two sets of sleep wear and went into the washroom to change, quickly redoing your binding. You walked out and set to work making tea, rekindling the fire you had going from earlier.

“Y/F/N might I spend the night?”  
You smiled to yourself and moved from the tea to sit next to Madison, setting the second set of sleepwear next to him. He smiled gratefully.

“I assumed.”  
He changed, you poured tea, and you both sat at the small table, taking sips and talking.

“Why did you have bandages around chest when you opened the door?”  
A little flash of terror flew across your face before you quickly regained composure. You were hoping he just wouldn’t ask

“It’s binding for an old war injury. I was shot in the ribs at Monmouth and the bones didn’t heal correctly. The binding helps keep them in place.”  
You sipped your tea. Not a complete lie.

“How often do you wear it? It must uncomfortable?”  
You shook your head.

“I don’t usually wear my binding to work, it helps mostly when I’m asleep.”  
“Why are you lying?”  
You paused.  
“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”  
“I can’t tell you that either.”

“I think you’re the most gorgeous person I know.”  
“I’m sorry.”

That earned a chuckle.  
And silence.

“It’s very late.”  
“Indeed it is.”

He saw that you had finished your tea and he got up and set both cups on the counter. You stood up and walked to lean the side of the table closest him.

This was dangerous.  
Oh so dangerous.

There were no words. He walked over, took your hips, and you kissed. And stars exploded in your brain. And even though you were taller, your hands went to his face and explored his jawline and neck and chest. And he explored your hips and ass and thighs and it wasn’t until he tried to grab your groin, and there was nothing there, that you came to and pushed him away as gently as could.

You both stood pleasantly out of breath as you regarded him with lust.

“I can’t do this.”  
“Why?”  
“I’m not who you think I am.”  
He stepped closer to you and you moved and stepped away.  
His expression darkened.  
“Jefferson was right.”  
“About what?”  
“I didn’t believe him at first but it just keeps making more and more sense.”  
“What are you going on about?”  
“You’re a woman.”

There were two fatal seconds where your expression contorted into one a man would  
wear who just found out his family had died or who ruined his career, a hopeless broken expression. Except it wasn’t a man who wore it.

James just whispered.  
“I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew it.”  
He didn’t turn to leave like you expected him to.  
He didn’t move at all. He just kept staring.

And slowly, you reached up and began unbuttoning your nightgown and let it fall from your shoulders to the floor. You took off the underwear first and then slowly unwrapped your binding. You had a scar under your left breast. James worked his eyes up your body starting with the feet, he paused at the scar. You let your hair down as he reached your face.

There were no tears, no emotion, just resignation and maybe relief. You made your stance wide, as though you were taking on a bull and put your hands out to the sides of your body, palms up.

“Do what you will. I should have died years ago.”  
You closed your eyes waiting for something, anything. A blow a sound, something but it never came. You slowly lifted your head again and he was still staring. He met your eyes and walked slowly towards you. He took your hips again and kissed you. This time it was different, like floating down a river, there was none of the pressure like last time.

And there was tongue and there were teeth and lips and what little clothing James Madison wore came off.

You made it to the bed and arms tangled together and legs intertwined. He sat on his knees and you sat over his member. Each second, a year waiting in trepidation. You felt his fingers enter you and start pumping in and out. One and then two and then three and then  
“More”  
And he thrust up into you, giving you time to adjust, and then began moving in and out, slowly. With each thrust it was as though you were connected to every fiber of his being and him to you. Each thrust destroying you both and allowing you to breathe for the first time.  
“Harder.” Your voice was hoarse and he was moaning  
He did. He reached his hand around to rub your clit and you screamed, your head falling back on his shoulder. Gasping and moaning echoed in your head until you came, James following short after.

You didn’t ever stop touching, just repositioned to lay on your sides.

“Are you going to tell anyone?”  
You felt him shake his head no. “You’re far too important.”  
You felt tears prick your eyes. And you felt yourself shake and they fell for the first time in years. James just held you tighter

That made 3 people who knew, two friends and one man named Thomas.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably tell, I took some artistic liberty here.  
> Jefferson and Adams were not at the constitutional convention  
> Hamilton never advocated for the New Jersey plan  
> This really isn't even how sessions of congress were set up  
> I should have been studying for my physics final
> 
> I feel really bad for Thomas Jefferson now because he has such a bad rap but he like basically created the democratic party  
> James Madison is the most relatable founding father  
> Also this really inaccurate just as a whole but really I hope you enjoyed it on some level


End file.
